


love the stars, love the moon

by inkquell



Category: Monsta X (Band), No.MERCY (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Feelings, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-06-07 14:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6808957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkquell/pseuds/inkquell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunhee doesn’t know how long he’s been in love with Jooheon. Maybe it’s always been there sitting underneath his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01

The night air is damp and warm with the promise of rain. Humidity clings to Gunhee like a second skin, reminding him of summers he spent in the countryside before coming to Seoul. His head buzzes from too much soju. Jooheon walks beside him, one hand on his elbow to make sure he stays on the inside of the sidewalk.

“Why does Minhyuk hyung have to live so far away?” Jooheon huffs as they make their way home.

Tonight marks the first party at Minhyuk’s new apartment, and one of the rare times Jooheon stays sober when Gunhee doesn’t.

“You’re the one who didn’t want to take the subway,” Gunhee says, jogging a little so he can stay in-step with Jooheon.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Jooheon says. “I was scared you’d throw up.”

He’s only half-joking.

“I’m not that drunk, Jooheonie,” Gunhee says. For a second, Gunhee stops watching where he’s going and almost trips on his own feet. Everything in front of him spins 360 degrees, and the grip on his elbow gets tighter.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.”

They’ve only walked a few more blocks before Gunhee starts trailing behind again, his clumsy steps getting even clumsier.

“Hold on,” Jooheon says as they’re passing over a bridge. “Your shoe is untied.”

As Jooheon stoops to one knee to tie his laces, Gunhee leans against the guardrail. He doesn't want to walk anymore—his limbs feel like jello. The pavement looks as inviting as ever, but instead Gunhee tips his head back to look at the stars, only to find there are none to see.

“Your hat is gonna fall into the water,” Jooheon warns him without looking up from his shoes. His fingers brush Gunhee’s ankle as his tugs his laces into a knot. The brief touch makes Gunhee’s head spin, and it’s not from the alcohol this time.

Gunhee ignores him and cranes his neck back further, too drunk to care.

“I miss the stars,” Gunhee muses.

Jooheon stands up and dusts the dirt off his jeans. “Hm?”

“The stars,” Gunhee repeats. “You can’t see them in Seoul.”

Jooheon stands beside him, then points up at the sky.

“There’s one right there,” he says.

Gunhee follows Jooheon’s finger with his eyes. “That’s an airplane.”

It zooms across the skyline, white and red lights flashing on its wings.

“Oh.” Jooheon frowns. “What about over there?”

“Radio tower.”

“Over there?”

“Now you’re just pointing at nothing. You sure you know what a star looks like?”

“Maybe not.” A grin splits Jooheon’s lips. “I grew up in the city, too much light pollution for stargazing.”

It’s true. While pretty at night with its bright lights and cityscape, Seoul’s sky is starless, or only dotted with enough stars to count on two hands. Gunhee remembers a time when he could look up and see a whole galaxy above him, too many to count. Sometimes he feels those memories are fading from his mind. Gunhee would do anything to be able to reach out and catch them, stop time from slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Back when me and my sister and my mom moved around a lot, we used to stay at motels in the middle of nowhere, y’know,” Gunhee mumbles, his voice weighted with sleep. “But that’s where you can see the stars the best, up near the mountains.”

“Sounds nice.” There’s something melancholic in Jooheon’s voice that Gunhee can’t quite place.

“There was this one place I remember really well,” Gunhee continues. “We went camping there a lot after my dad left. There were all these hills, giant trees, a river too. It was really beautiful.”

Gunhee wonders if he would be saying all this if not for the alcohol.

“We should go sometime, Gun-ah,” Jooheon says wistfully. “Take me there. You can show me.”

Gunhee watches him stare out into the water, his eyes wet and glassy from the wind. The reflection of lights through office buildings and apartment windows cast the illusion of stars across the river. They float on the surface, shining.

“It’s pretty here though, don’t you think?” Jooheon says, mesmerized.

“Yeah, it is,” Gunhee says, but he’s thinking of his life before he ever knew any of this existed—before he became familiar with Seoul’s skyscrapers and grey pavement, the Han River and its bridges, strung between the muddy banks like rungs of a ladder.

It’s easy for Gunhee to get caught up in everything, city life moves too fast and too slow for him at the same time. He likes it here though. He likes being with Jooheon, but it can be easy to miss things that feel far away, sometimes even Jooheon feels far away too.

Gunhee turns back to the sky, shoving words the alcohol has climbing up his throat back down into his stomach. They sit there, waiting for the next opportunity to crawl back up. Gunhee's tongue feels heavy in his mouth with everything he wants to tell Jooheon, but even soju isn't enough to loosen it. His eyelids droop closed. As soon as Gunhee thinks he’s about to fall asleep, right there against the guardrail, Jooheon’s arms wrap around his waist and steady him on his feet.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

—

Gunhee doesn’t know how long he’s been in love with Jooheon. Maybe since the spring when they moved in together, or their first year of college, or as far back as high school, or maybe it’s always been there sitting underneath Gunhee’s skin. Only now it’s beginning to crack at Gunhee’s surface, like a toothpick against an eggshell.

One night Gunhee comes home from work to find Jooheon sitting alone in the kitchen, partly in the dark, with the windows wide open. The breeze ruffles Jooheon’s disheveled hair as he sits on the counter, gently swaying his feet beneath him and eating a bowl of cereal. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt and pyjama shorts that ride up his thighs as he sits. Gunhee’s chest grows tight, his lungs feeling a size too small as he breathes in.

“Did you see it?” Jooheon asks as soon as Gunhee gets through the door.

Gunhee slips his backpack and shoes off. His muscles ache from sitting in the studio all day. He stayed late to fix a technicality with the microphones. He and Hoseok needed to rerecord a whole session of audio. To say the least, Gunhee is exhausted, not to mention the hangover still pounding dully in his head.

 “See what?” Gunhee asks.

Jooheon holds the spoon between his teeth and points towards the window.

“Look to the left,” he mumbles.

Gunhee crosses the kitchen to the window, tossing his keys onto the table as he goes. Down below he can hear the sounds of the city: the tap of a woman’s high-heels against the pavement, an ambulance siren a few blocks away, the whoosh as cars speed down the street. The streetlights tinge everything a bright orange. It paints a surreal picture.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Gunhee says, squinting. Other than something suspiciously moving around in the dumpster and a group of ahjusshis walking down the street, there isn't much to see. “I don’t see anything, Jooheonie.”

Jooheon shakes his head. “No, look _up_.”

High above the cluster of buildings, a single star looms in the sky. It points towards the north. Gunhee wonders if there are others hiding behind the clouds, or if that’s the only one.

“Pretty exciting, huh?” Jooheon says, scooping another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “See, I know what a star looks like.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Gunhee’s mouth.

“I almost forgot about that,” he says. It’s a lie, he's been thinking about their conversation all day.

Jooheon pours the excess milk from his cereal bowl into the sink.

“Well, you were pretty wasted,” he says.

Gunhee moves away from the window. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you were.”

“ _No_ , I wasn’t.”

It’s only when Gunhee feels Jooheon’s breath against his face, cool and sweet like the Froot Loops he’s been eating, that he realizes he’s crowded into his space. Jooheon’s knees are spread apart to make room for Gunhee to fit in between. Gunhee can feel the warmth of his thighs against his hips.

Sometimes it amazes Gunhee how they can be like this—foreheads two inches away from being pressed together, fingers brushing, so close Gunhee can count Jooheon’s eyelashes—and things can still be comfortable, normal even. But Gunhee never has the courage to close the space between them. He’s playing a game of tug-of-war with himself: every time he pushes forward, he pulls back. Gunhee looks away from Jooheon’s gaze.

“Is something wrong?” Jooheon asks, sensing the shift between them. His hand finds Gunhee’s hip and rests there, fingers splayed out against his side. “You okay?”

Jooheon sounds too nonchalant for the way their bodies are so close together. Then again, he has always been casual with affection. It’s nothing new. He’s this way with everyone: sitting on Hyunwoo’s lap when he’s drunk, leaning into Changkyun when he laughs, letting Minhyuk cuddle and coddle him when he’s feeling especially clingy. Maybe it’s selfish, but sometimes Gunhee thinks he’s an exception, thinks that the touches between them mean something different.

“Just tired,” Gunhee says.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jooheon asks. His thumb rubs circles through the fabric of Gunhee’s shirt. Gunhee’s skin suddenly feels too hot.

“No, it’s just—” He quickly racks his brain for something to tell him. The pounding in his head gets louder the more he thinks. “I’m really hungover still.”

The tension in the air breaks in half. Jooheon’s hand falls from Gunhee’s hip to cover his mouth as he laughs, tipping his head back so Gunhee can see the smooth skin of his neck.

“Wait, so you admit you were trashed last night?”

“Yeah, I admit it. Please don't let me drink ever again,” Gunhee groans and lets his head limply fall onto Jooheon’s shoulder.

Gunhee is too tired to worry about saving face. Sometimes it’s therapeutic to say _fuck it_ and allow himself to fold into Jooheon unabashedly, even if he’ll regret it later.

Eventually, Jooheon’s hands find Gunhee’s waist again. It’s intimate and oddly natural. It feels like they’ve been doing this for years, and in a way they have, but it’s never felt so important to Gunhee until now. Things have changed. Every time Gunhee touches Jooheon, there’s weight to it. He has to be more careful.

After a moment, Jooheon asks softly, “You’re not gonna be sick, are you?”

Jooheon’s t-shirt muffles Gunhee’s voice when he speaks.

“No,” he says. At least he hopes so.

“Good.”

From behind Jooheon’s head, Gunhee can still see the single star glowing faintly through the open window. It looks lonely by itself in the Seoul sky, but then Gunhee notices the moon is there too, half full and chalky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will have five parts. Almost all of it is written so I'll try to update frequently! Thank you for reading.
> 
> The title comes from [D (half moon)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKiauCIJhv0) by Dean.


	2. 02

Even though he’s busy throughout the week, Gunhee tries to visit his mother as much as possible. It’s more than second nature for Gunhee to always put his family first, ahead of school and friends and even music. Now that he lives with Jooheon, not having them around is strange, albeit a necessary change for an independent twenty-two-year-old. Or at least that's how his mother puts it. 

Gunhee loves his family. It’s something so ingrained in him that it’s become a facet of his personality. Sometimes he feels a little lost without them by his side to remind him what he’s working so hard for. Gunhee misses his older sister and his grandmother and his cousins, but he misses his mom the most. He misses her warm smiles, her hugs, the way she strokes his hair and reassures him with all the right words. And he especially misses her cooking. Gunhee can survive on instant ramyun and takeout, and Jooheon is a passable cook when he wants to be, but nothing compares to the meals made specially by his mother.

Lately, Jooheon has been too busy to join Gunhee when he goes over to his mother’s house for dinner. He used to come more often, once a month or so, but lately he’s been compulsively preoccupied with other things: either caught in a bout of inspiration while working on a new track, stuck in a late meeting, or attending mandatory social outings with his work colleagues. Tonight, however, Jooheon’s ass stays glued to the couch. With headphones hanging around his neck and his laptop balanced on one knee, he stares blankly at an equally as blank Twitter feed. His hand disappears periodically into a bag of M&M’s. 

“Are you planning on eating some real food?” Gunhee asks, standing in the hallway.

“Huh?” Jooheon pops another handful of M&M’s into his mouth. His dimples crater his cheeks as he chews, appearing and disappearing with the up and down of his jaw. 

“Real food,” Gunhee repeats. 

“This is real food.”

But Gunhee isn’t convinced. Gunhee should probably care less, but he wants to make sure Jooheon eats something, well, not candy-coated and artificially flavoured for dinner.

“Why don't you come with me to my mom’s?” Gunhee begins, falling into the seat next to Jooheon. “She’s making kimchi jjigae if you’re interested, unless you’d rather eat that. Your choice.”

Jooheon snorts and throws an M&M at him. Gunhee attempts to catch it in his mouth but it bounces of his chest and falls onto the floor. 

“But seriously, Jooheon, you should come.”

“Really?” Jooheon looks hesitant, staring down into the bottom of his bag of candy. “You sure I’m invited?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

Jooheon has met Gunhee's family hundreds of times before, but on the subway ride there he seems tense. Gunhee isn't sure what’s changed. He watches Jooheon bounce his legs up and down, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm against the edge of his seat. Gunhee doesn’t say anything until they’re getting off at their stop and walking up the subway station stairs. 

“What’s up with you?” Gunhee asks, poking him with his elbow. “Sugar crash?”

“No.” Jooheon looks at his feet, kicks a rock in front of him as they walk. It skitters across the pavement, hopping over the cracks in the sidewalk. When Gunhee catches up to it he stops the rock with his foot and passes it back to Jooheon, like when they were teenagers walking home from school. The pebble bounces off the inside of Jooheon’s shoe and accidentally slips through a sewer grate. 

Jooheon sighs and chews on the inside of his lip. His snapback is crooked on his head. Gunhee has the urge to reach out and fix it, but keeps his hand stuck to his side. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Gunhee says instead.

“I’m not nervous,” Jooheon insists, but contradicts himself when he says, “Well, maybe a bit. They haven't seen me in so long.”

“So what?”

“What if they don’t like me anymore?”

Gunhee almost laughs, but then he sees Jooheon’s pout. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Jooheonie. My family loves you. The last time you were over I’m pretty sure my grandma was ready to adopt you.”

“Wouldn’t that make me your uncle?”

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds weird.” 

Jooheon smiles, and the mood lightens instantly. “I’d be a good uncle, wouldn’t I?”

“I told you to stop asking stupid questions.”

Gunhee’s old home is tucked away in its own corner of Seoul, hidden between alleyways and roads no one seems to drive down. Gunhee finds comfort in these winding side streets, where it feels as if everyone is sleeping but him. No one leaves their curtains open or their lights on too late. Sometimes Gunhee lingers here after a late visit, sits on the curb in front of the closed convenience store, breathes slow and full and counts the stars on his fingers until a text from Jooheon pulls him back home. 

They go inside through the back door. 

“Mom?” Gunhee calls, setting down the gift he brought her and slipping off his shoes by the door. Jooheon does the same. “Mom, we’re here!”

They find her in the kitchen. The windows are foggy with steam from whatever is bubbling deliciously inside the pots on the stove. Gunhee’s mother abandons her cooking to pull her son into a hug.

“Mom, how are you?” Gunhee asks, kissing her lightly on the cheek. 

“Oh, good,” she reassures him, then floods him with a plethora of questions like she does every week: how he’s been, how his job is going, whether his boss has approved any of his compositions yet, if he’s managed to talk Minho into coming for a visit. Jooheon stands in the doorway, just grinning, until Gunhee’s mother notices him and welcomes him inside.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she says, smiling.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited recently.” 

“It’s okay, Jooheon. I know how busy you are.” 

It’s not long until dinner is ready and Gunhee’s mother is setting the food on the table. Gunhee’s grandma joins them, commenting on how tall Gunhee has gotten when he really hasn’t grown at all since the last time he saw her. Gunhee’s mother places the pot down and lifts off the lid. The smell of homemade food instantly warms Gunhee’s chest and makes him feel at home. It tastes delicious, as expected. Over their meal, they talk about the humid weather, Gunhee’s job at the entertainment company, his older sister’s engagement and upcoming wedding. Gunhee’s grandma pats Jooheon’s cheeks and calls him cute whenever he makes makes a joke or comments about how tasty the food is. Every once in a while Jooheon glances shyly back at Gunhee for reassurance. Gunhee bumps his knee lightly against Jooheon’s underneath the table. It’s supposed to mean something along the lines of _‘you’re doing great_ ’ or _‘relax’_ , but he isn’t sure whether or not Jooheon gets the message, or if he even needs it anymore. 

Gunhee doesn’t know what Jooheon was so worried about before. He has always matched well with Gunhee’s family. He’d fit right in if he were to truly become a part of it one day. Heat rises to Gunhee’s cheeks suddenly when he realizes what that means. He stares into the bottom of his stew. 

“Too spicy?” Jooheon asks him.

Gunhee lifts his gaze. “Huh?”

“The stew, is it too spicy?” Jooheon says again. “Your face is kinda red.” 

“Uh, yeah, spicy.” Gunhee takes a bite so he won’t have to say much more.

Soon enough, everyone’s bowls are scraped clean and Gunhee’s stomach is full to the brim. 

Gunhee’s mother stands up. “I’m going to put your grandmother to bed and then I’ll be back to down to clean up, okay?” she says. 

Gunhee immediately shakes his head. “No, we can clean up.”

“Are you sure?”

Gunhee laughs. “Yes, you can trust us.” 

Jooheon nods in agreement, already gathering up the dishes and utensils into a stack. 

“Okay,” she says. “Try not to break anything, that’s my good china.” 

They have a dishwasher at their apartment, so everything about this feels innately domestic and new to Gunhee. Jooheon's hip periodically bumps against Gunhee’s as they wash. Gunhee rinses a glass and lays it onto the dish rack before dropping a handful of utensils in the sink. 

“Gun-ah, you keep splashing me,” Jooheon complains, tugging his slipping sleeves back up around his elbows.

Gunhee takes that as a challenge and flicks a few more droplets in his direction. They fly across and wet the front of his shirt. In response, Jooheon quickly skims the top of the water and blows a handful of soap suds at him. Half of it gets into Gunhee's hair, and the other half slides down the front of his t-shirt, wet and foamy. 

Jooheon attempts to apologize but starts laughing so hard he has to brace himself on the kitchen floor. Gunhee pretends he wants throttle him, not straddle his lap and kiss him quiet.

“Come on, asshole,” Gunhee says, getting Jooheon to his feet. He’s still laughing, but he pauses to run a hand through Gunhee’s hair to wipe up the soap bubbles.

“At least you smell lemony fresh now,” Jooheon says, waving his soapy hand in front of Gunhee’s face.

Gunhee shoves him in the shoulder, but can’t hide his own smile. 

There are a few more pots and utensils they have to finish washing, then they’ll be done. Gunhee can feel the tips of his fingers wrinkling. He sets the last plate on the dish rack to dry while Jooheon scrubs at a fork. He hands it to Gunhee to rinse, then goes to grab another.

“Oh, fuck,” Jooheon hisses under his breath. 

Gunhee is about to scold him for using that kind of language in his mother’s house when Jooheon pulls his hand out of the sink. His finger is bleeding.

“You’re a clutz,” Gunhee says, rummaging through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He searches until he finds a box of bandaids and a bottle of antiseptic. He grabs some cotton pads too for good measure.

“Well, you’re the one who didn't tell me there were knives in the sink.” 

Jooheon finds himself in a familiar position, sitting on the kitchen counter once again. Only this time, it’s a different kitchen and he’s holding a wad of tissues against the finger he sliced open.

Gunhee sets his collected supplies on the table and does a quick reconnaissance check. He feels like he’s preparing for war, and judging by the way Jooheon is staring at the antiseptic reluctantly, Gunhee might as well be.

“Am I gonna need stitches?” he asks, his lip curling in disgust as Gunhee removes the kleenex. It’s covered with rusty red spots where the blood has soaked in and dried. Jooheon’s finger is still bleeding. 

Gunhee goes to the sink to wash his hands. 

“No,” he says. “It’s not _that_ bad.”

“What’s all that for then?” Jooheon motions to the supplies on the table. 

“It’s so you don’t get an infection.”

“Infection? How do you know what you’re doing?” 

“Didn’t you get scraped up as a kid?”

“Yeah,” Jooheon says, looking at his feet. “But usually my mom was the one who did stuff like this.” 

When Gunhee was growing up, his mom worked two jobs, and as much as his mother has been there for him, there were times when Gunhee had to fend for himself. Gunhee specifically remembers falling off his bike at ten years old and slicing his knee open, wandering home bleeding and patching himself up because his mother wasn’t home. There’s still a scar from where his knee hit the pavement. 

It’s things like this that remind Gunhee of the differences between him and Jooheon. He’s so used to being told how alike they are, how they love the same music, or how their dreams overlap, or how whenever they’re together it’s like a chemical reaction, Gunhee forgets the deviations. But it’s not a bad thing that they’re there. Gunhee thinks he can learn from Jooheon in that respect, and Jooheon can learn from him. 

Gunhee pours a bit of antiseptic onto a cotton pad. The scent is strong enough to tickle the inside of Gunhee’s nose. He breathes through his mouth so he doesn't have to smell it. 

“This will probably sting,” Gunhee says, ready to press it against Jooheon’s cut. Immediately, Jooheon raises his arm above his head, his injured finger out of Gunhee’s reach. Gunhee has seen Jooheon face much bigger challenges, perform on a stages in front of 1,000 plus people, compete in rap competitions when they were teenagers without batting an eyelash, but as soon as he sees blood he runs and hides.

“Come on, Jooheonie,” Gunhee chides gently, wrapping his hand around Jooheon’s forearm. “Don’t be such a baby. ” 

Gunhee thinks he sees Jooheon blush, a faint pink blossoming on his cheeks, but then again maybe it’s just a trick of the light. It requires a bit more coaxing for Jooheon to relax and allow Gunhee to lower his hand back to eye level. 

“Wait a sec—”

Gunhee presses the soaked cotton pad to Jooheon’s cut before he can protest again.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch,” Jooheon whines. Gunhee won’t admit it out loud, but it’s kind of cute. He pulls the now pink stained cotton pad from Jooheon’s finger and grabs the box of bandages. 

“See, that wasn't so bad,” he says.

Jooheon pouts. “Am I gonna make it, doc?”

Gunhee peels a bandaid from its packaging. “You’ll live,” he says and bends it around the curve of Jooheon’s finger, sticking it in place. “There, all better.” 

“Hello Kitty?” Jooheon asks. He wiggles his finger experimentally in front of his face. The hot pink bandaid stands out bright against his skin. Little white cats pattern it like polkadots. 

“Sorry,” Gunhee says, crumpling up the paper package and tossing it in the trash. “We ran out of ASAP Rocky bandaids.” 

“No, it’s okay. I like it.”

Gunhee’s old bedroom is skin and bones. He took most of his things with him when he and Jooheon decided to live together. His mattress sits right against the floor. There are some knickknacks here and there: an old basketball trophy Gunhee won as a kid, a dusty stack of CDs by bands he doesn't listen to anymore, some photographs on his otherwise empty bookshelf. Jooheon traces the frame of one with his finger. 

“Where was this taken?” he asks, turning it around for Gunhee to see.

The photograph shows Gunhee, maybe four or five years old, squatting next to a patch of flowers in a field. He holds a peace sign up to his chubby face.

"Oh!" Gunhee says as he rummages through his wardrobe for something else to wear. The bubbles Jooheon blew at him earlier are starting to feel sticky against his chest. “That’s the place I told you about.”

“Y’know, I wasn’t joking about going there.” 

“You really want to go?” Gunhee asks. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

It would be nice, Gunhee thinks, to visit that place again, while the weather is still warm. It’s somewhere that holds a lot of memories. Gunhee wouldn't mind sharing them with Jooheon if he’s so open to the idea. They could probably borrow Hoseok’s car, drive there on a clear night, get out of the city, see the sky without the smog. It feels like wishful thinking. Like most things, it seems so far out of Gunhee’s reach right now. But he won’t tell that to Jooheon.

“Maybe,” Gunhee says.

Jooheon wipes a layer of dust from the shelf and puts the picture back down. He skips over a photograph of Gunhee’s father, and picks up another one of a school-aged Gunhee in a bright yellow hat, staring at the camera with wide eyes. He’s wearing red overalls with little monkeys on them.

“You were so cute,” Jooheon says. “What happened?”

Gunhee throws a pair of socks at him, just missing his head.

With enough searching, Gunhee finds an old hoodie he probably used to wear as a teenager. It’s a little small and has a stain on one of the sleeves, but it’ll do. Jooheon watches Gunhee from his bed, his eyes following him across the room. Gunhee fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Jooheon asks, oblivious, then, “Oh, sorry.”

It’s nothing he hasn't seen before, but Jooheon spins around to face the wall anyways. Gunhee changes quickly.

When they come back out, Gunhee’s mother is sitting quietly on the couch, watching the last few minutes of a late night variety show. She turns off the television when she sees Gunhee and Jooheon.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Jooheon says, then politely bows to Gunhee’s mother. “Thank you for dinner. It was great.”

She smiles, gets to her feet, and pulls Jooheon into a tight hug.

“Thank you for coming. It’s nice to see you again,” she says. She squeezes his shoulders a few times before letting go. 

Gunhee listens to Jooheon’s footsteps as he walks outside and down the porch steps. The house feels too quiet now. Gunhee sinks into the sofa. 

“Hi, mom,” Gunhee says. For some reason, his throat feels tight.

He leans his head against her shoulder. She feels thin underneath his weight. Gunhee wonders if she’s eating enough, sleeping enough, getting enough fresh air. He reminds himself to send her more money once he gets his next pay check.

Gunhee’s mother softly brushes the hair off his forehead. “So, how has my son been?”

“Good, mom, I’ve been fine,” Gunhee says.

“Truthfully?”

Gunhee lifts his head. “What, do you think I’m lying?”

“No,” she begins, “but it seems like there’s something bothering you.”

He will never understand how she reads him so easily.

“It’s nothing. I’m okay, mom,” Gunhee says, trying to save her the worry, “Please don’t worry about me.”

“It’s impossible for a mother not to worry about her child,” she says, laughing a little. She holds Gunhee’s hand in her lap, runs her thumb back and forth across the smooth skin of his knuckles. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Gunhee?” 

As much as he trusts his mother, Gunhee isn't ready to talk about it. There’s still a fear of rejection, not just from his mother but from Jooheon too. He doesn’t want to change what’s between them — the comfortability, the trust, the long running easiness of their relationship. Jooheon is his best friend. What if he opens his mouth and ruins all of that? What if it cheapens everything they’ve been through together? What if Jooheon doesn't reciprocate, or gets overwhelmed, or misunderstands?

It’s undeniable that Gunhee loves Jooheon. Most of the time he wants him to know it in some way, be able to feel it somehow without words. That’s why Gunhee doesn’t push Jooheon away when he needs someone to casually wrap his arms around, to fall asleep next to on the couch, to flirt with, to cry on when he’s stressed and tired. It never goes farther than that, never beyond touches and into words. Gunhee is too afraid he’ll say something that will hurt Jooheon, or make him disappear.

“No, I’m really fine, mom.” Gunhee gives her a tight-lipped smile. 

Outside, Jooheon is waiting for him on the porch steps.

When he sees Gunhee, he says, “Look, there are two stars out this time.”

Gunhee looks up, and there they are. The pair of stars are probably the brightest outliers of a bigger constellation, the others hidden somewhere underneath the clouds. Even if he didn’t pay much attention in science class, Gunhee remembers that whenever someone looks at a star, they’re really looking years into the past, billions of miles into outer space and through the Milky Way. In the sky, the two stars look so close to each other, even when they’re lightyears apart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might be a little late because I have school to focus on, as well as Monsta X's comeback. Make sure you support them, as well as Gunhee on SMTM! Feel free to tell me what you think and thank you for reading.


	3. 03

Down by the Han River, the sun finishes setting. The sky is dusky, a gradient of orange toblue to black. One by one, the streetlights start to come on, their glow fading into view. They hum with electricity, lighting up the basketball courts along the river. Gunhee dribbles a ball back and forth between his palms, rubber echoing against the pavement with a _pap, pap, pap_. He sees the river between the slots in the fence. The floating stars are there on the water again, appearing as soon as the night wakes up.

Changkyun sits on the edge of the paint, a music theory textbook open in his lap. He thumbs at the pages, his pen pressing into a notebook without any real intent of getting any words down. He watches Gunhee take free throws instead.

Throughout their four years of high school, these courts were Gunhee and Jooheon’s salvation, playing one on one at two in the morning when they should have been sleeping, whatever shitty rap music they liked at the time playing as their BGM. Gunhee wonders if he felt the same way about Jooheon back then as he does now. Everything was so easy between them, easy like breathing. All Gunhee had to worry about was whether Jooheon had scored more baskets then him, or the bruises he'd gotten trying to wrestle the ball away. But even four years later, Gunhee can't say for sure whether what he feels now wasn't there before. He can’t remember a time when Jooheon didn’t make him feel like he was about to burst through his skin.

Changkyun shuts his book with an exaggerated slam and groans. 

"Hyung, I thought you said you were gonna help me with this," he says, looking down at his textbook— _Tonal Harmony: An Introduction to Twentieth Century Music_. 

Gunhee passes the ball between his legs, then takes a shot. It bounces off the back board and goes in with an unsatisfying clunk. Between now and the last time Gunhee was here, someone stole the netting right from the hoop. 

“No,” Gunhee says, shooting another free throw. This time it doesn’t go in. He catches it with his fingers before it can roll away. “I said _Jooheon_ would help you with it.” 

Most of the time Gunhee just makes music, sifting blindly through beats and chord combinations until he comes up with something through trial and error. Jooheon, on the other hand, actually knows what goes into it. He understands the inner workings, the process behind notes and scales and chord progressions. 

“Jooheon hyung isn’t here right now,” Changkyun counters. 

“Did you try texting him?”

“I told him to meet us, but he didn’t answer.” 

“He’s probably still at the studio,” Gunhee says, bouncing the ball towards Changkyun, who catches it clumsily.

“Both of you are hopeless anyways,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it, only a cheeky smile. He twirls the ball in his hands before tossing it back. Gunhee laughs, catching it before it can hit him square in the chest. 

The backboard of the basketball hoop is scuffed and worn from years of use, and Gunhee makes it his mission to scuff it even further. He takes shot after shot from the free throw line. Only half of them make it in, but it’s good enough practice. There’s something about the catch and release of the ball that clears Gunhee’s head. Changkyun sits by the sidelines, just watching him in an attempt to avoid his assignment, and claps every time Gunhee makes a basket. Gunhee can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but he soaks up the applause anyways. With his next shot, the basketball ricochets off the hoop like a bullet and bounces over his shoulder. Before Gunhee can grab it, someone rushes past him to make the rebound. It sneaks right through the hoop.

"Show off," Gunhee grumbles. 

Jooheon smiles, holding the ball between his arm and his hip.

"One versus one?” Jooheon challenges, then looks to Changkyun, who has finally cracked his book open again. “Or two versus one? If you’re up for it, that is.” 

Changkyun motions to the mess of papers in his lap. “I can’t. I’m studying.”

“It doesn't look like it,” Gunhee says.

“Shut up, hyung. I’m trying.”

Jooheon sits on the pavement beside him and points to something in Changkyun’s textbook, his hand falling onto the younger boy’s shoulder like it usually does. They talk for a while, and Gunhee continues to take free throws, joining in on the conversation when he can. It’s only after a few minutes that Gunhee realizes he’s paying less attention to the shots he’s taking and more attention to Jooheon’s voice as he explains a complicated musical concept to Changkyun. 

“It’s like that?” Changkyun asks.

“No, not like that.” Jooheon scribbles something into his notebook. “It’s like _that_.”

“Oh, _that_.”

Only a beat passes before Changkyun's phone buzzes, lighting up the screen. He checks it, then starts packing his bag. Jooheon stands up.

"So, no two versus one?” Gunhee asks. He passes the ball to Jooheon.

Changkyun slips the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. "I almost forgot me and Kihyun were gonna watch a movie tonight."

Jooheon ahs. Gunhee oohs. 

"Your mother misses you," Gunhee says jokingly.

He can’t see Changkyun as he bends over to grab his textbook, but he’s probably rolling his eyes. 

”He’s not my mother."

"Sorry, your _boyfriend_ misses you,” Jooheon chimes in, then passes the ball to Gunhee.

"My boyfriend is none of your—" Changkyun pauses. "Remind me again why I hang out with you two.” 

"Because you love us?” Gunhee passes the ball back to Jooheon. 

Before it can reach him, Changkyun lunges forward and intercepts the pass. He hurls the ball over Jooheon and Gunhee's heads into the end zone, then takes off. 

"Play fair," he calls. "See you later!"

Quick on his feet, Jooheon is first to recapture the ball. Gunhee meets him mid court. 

“How many points are we playing to?” Gunhee asks.

Jooheon dribbles the ball back and forth between his legs. “Fifty?” he suggests. “Or we could play to—”

Gunhee steps forward and swipes the ball from Jooheon’s grasp before he can say much more, then runs past him for the layup. 

“2-0,” Gunhee says as the ball goes through the hoop and falls back onto the pavement with a smack. 

Jooheon isn't impressed. “What happened to playing fair?” he says.

Gunhee shrugs. “You started it.”

Friendly rivalry has always existed between them, always trying to outdo each other, push one another further. Gunhee doubts he’d be where he is without that pressure of competition. Jooheon makes Gunhee work harder, and Gunhee always keeps him on his toes. 

Multiple baskets, fouls, and bruises later, Gunhee is still leading 48-44. His legs are starting to feel sore and he’s pretty sure there’s a scrape on his elbow, but he only has to make one more basket before he earns bragging rights for the rest of the night. 

“Can you make the shot already?” Jooheon asks, arms out and ready to block him.

“Hey, don’t rush me,” Gunhee says, intentionally dribbling slower just to get on Jooheon’s nerves. 

At first, Gunhee attempts to fake Jooheon out by stepping to the left, then going to the right, but Jooheon is too quick. Gunhee tries to plow through him instead, but only makes it a few steps before Jooheon’s grabs him by the waist and pulls him back. The ball slips away, rolls off the court, and bounces into the grass. It’s obvious Jooheon doesn’t care about the game anymore because he doesn’t go after it, just tightens his arms around Gunhee. 

“Yah! Let go of me!” Gunhee says, but he’s laughing, trying to wriggle away.

Jooheon’s chest presses against Gunhee’s back, his cheek against his shoulder, and his laugh loud and clear in Gunhee’s ear. Eventually, Gunhee gives up trying to escape and lets himself crumple onto the court. Jooheon goes with him. They should fall hard against the pavement, but Jooheon lowers them down easy, one hand beside Gunhee’s head, holding himself up. They’re both panting hard, sweaty and beat up. Gunhee’s breath is hot and erratic, partly because of their basketball game and partly because Jooheon is on top of him.

He groans from underneath him. “I think you’re crushing me,” Gunhee warns before he forgets himself and does something stupid, like kiss him.

“Oh, sorry.” Jooheon rolls off of him and sprawls out on the court, his palms turned up towards the sky. 

Gunhee closes his eyes. 

Right now, it really feels like nothing has changed since high school. They’re still just two kids with stupid dreams and ambitions too big for their own good. Being with Jooheon like this—not thinking too much, or worrying too much, just _being_ —is still easy like breathing. Gunhee forgot what it felt like.

—

It’s crowded and hot inside the club. An electronic beat thumps in Gunhee’s ears, loud enough that it feels like it’s pulsing inside his head. Gunhee raises his beer to his lips, but decides against it and drops it back onto the table. He feels buzzed enough already. Maybe it has something to do with how good Jooheon looks tonight, the way his hair is parted and styled off his forehead with some product Minhyuk insisted he use, how his ripped jeans tease a peak at the skin of his thighs, how his heart-shaped lips fold over the edge of his glass each time he takes a sip. Jooheon accidentally spills some of his drink down his chin and Gunhee instinctively reaches to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb. He's about to kick himself for it when Jooheon laughs and leans into him.

Despite how often he’s been working overtime the past few weeks—staying at the studio as late as 5 am on some nights, coming home with watery eyes from staring at a laptop screen too long, teetering on the edge of exhaustion but still stopping to joke around and ask Gunhee how his day was—Jooheon is so relaxed and loud and happy tonight. That combined with the loud music and the smell of alcohol and the pressure of Jooheon’s thigh against his in the undersized booth makes it incredibly hard for Gunhee to think straight. 

“Shit! I love this song!” The music is loud, but Jooheon makes up for it by shouting. It’s some EDM track Gunhee doesn’t remember the name of.

“Are you gonna dance?” Kihyun asks him. It’s more of a dare than anything.

Hyunwoo, Hoseok, and Hyungwon are already somewhere amidst the crowd, as per usual. Jooheon catches Gunhee’s eyes and nudges his shin underneath the table. Gunhee reads the gesture easily. 

“Fuck off, you know I can’t dance,” Gunhee protests. 

“Aw, come on.” Jooheon points to Gunhee’s untouched beer. “You’re just not drunk enough yet,” he insists, but he isn’t drunk either. Jooheon holds his alcohol much better than anyone Gunhee knows, aside from Hyunwoo maybe. 

“I don’t think that’s gonna help me,” Gunhee says. 

Jooheon pouts. “Well, at least if you embarrass yourself you won’t remember it in the morning,” he says.

Kihyun, who’s already halfway gone from one-and-a-half bottles of soju, laughs so hard he almost falls out of his chair, tipping his head back far enough that Gunhee can see his molars. Just then, Minhyuk comes back from the bar and falls into the seat beside him with a thump. He takes a sip from the drink in his hand and doesn't bother swallowing before he starts talking.

“What’s so funny? What did I miss?” he asks, curling his lip inwards to keep it from spilling everywhere. Minhyuk however, unlike Jooheon, does not hold his alcohol very well.

“They’re bickering,” Kihyun says, motioning across the table to Gunhee and Jooheon.

“No, we’re not,” Gunhee insists. 

Jooheon brushes him off. “Not my fault Gun’s being a party pooper,” Jooheon whines, but he’s still smiling, and his hand is dangerously close to Gunhee’s thigh underneath the table. 

“Jooheonie, if you need a dance partner, y’know I can set you up with someone if you want,” he shouts it a little too loudly. “I know this one girl, Daeun,” Minhyuk says, taking another swig of his drink. “I think she’s around here somewhere. I could set you up with her. Or there’s Jinwoo,” he adds. “He’d probably go out with you if you asked.”

Gunhee stares into the bottom of his beer bottle, trying to act like the prospect of Jooheon going out with someone doesn’t bother him. He knows Minhyuk is just joking around and trying to push Jooheon’s buttons, but it prods at a sensitive spot, like someone poking a fresh bruise. Gunhee drags his finger across the condensation building up against the glass. Jooheon is laughing, but Gunhee can tell he’s embarrassed. The tips of his ears are starting to turn red. 

“Yes? No?” Minhyuk asks, waiting for an answer. He raises his eyebrows. They disappear into his frosty white bangs.

Jooheon shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, but you should probably worry about your own love life, hyung.”

“Ouch,” Gunhee adds, and everyone is laughing again.

Jooheon takes another sip of his drink before standing. 

“Get your ass up,” he instructs, pulling Gunhee until he’s out of his seat too. “I’m forcing you to have fun tonight. Dance with me, Gun-ah.”

Gunhee doesn’t understand why Jooheon’s flirting so much tonight, every touch and smile light like it means nothing to him. But he won’t complain, and it’s difficult to push Jooheon away, so he doesn’t. 

Gunhee raises his hands in defeat. “Okay, Jooheonie, okay.”

The air is even hotter in and amongst the crowd. They maneuver their way through the ocean of swaying bodies, trying not to bump into anyone. Gunhee lets Jooheon drag him to the spot where Hyungwon, Hoseok, and Hyunwoo are already dancing. They cheer and laugh and raise their drinks when they see them. Bouncing with the tempo of the music, Jooheon’s movements are excited and exaggerated in an attempt to loosen Gunhee up a bit. He isn't sure what else to do but jump to the beat and try to follow him. 

It gets easier the more he moves, the strobe lights by the DJ booth flashing, and the bass so loud Gunhee thinks he can feel it in the thump of his heart. Hoseok comes over and throws his arms around them both, singing loudly into their ears. By the time the first few songs are over, sweat is dripping down the side of Gunhee’s face, and his legs feel like Jello from constant jumping. Jooheon steadies him with his hands against Gunhee’s hips. His hair has fallen into his eyes, and his face is shiny with perspiration. He’s smiling so wide his dimples look like sinkholes, and God, he looks so happy and bright and beautiful. 

And Gunhee feels it. It’s the feeling that always lingers between them after every touch, every smile, every joke, but harder to ignore. It’s the feeling that something is about to happen, but the space separating them stays open every time. Too often, Gunhee thinks about how easy it would be to physically close that space, to step between it and just kiss him. Right now, they’re too close to that territory, and Gunhee is terrified. 

The club feels too small all of a sudden, the atmosphere hot and stifling. Gunhee almost bumps into someone behind him when he pulls away. Jooheon’s face falls.

“Gun-ah, is there something—“

“I’m gonna get some air.”

He navigates his way across the dance floor and to a back door the leads out into an alleyway behind the club. The comparatively cool air hits Gunhee hard as he steps outside. His ears are ringing, he feels hot and upset, and all he can think about is Jooheon’s face when he pushed him away.

Gunhee sits on the concrete, trying to catch his breath. Behind him the club door opens and Gunhee can hear the shitty EDM music again. He turns around to see Jooheon poking his head out. When he spots Gunhee, he joins him in the alleyway.

"Hey," he says hesitantly.

"Hey," Gunhee says. An apology rises in Gunhee's throat, but he suppresses it.

“You ran off on me.” Jooheon sits next to Gunhee. “Are you ok?”

Gunhee wonders how often Jooheon has asked him that in the past few months. He’d probably need three hands to be able to count all of the times on his fingers. 

“Yeah, Jooheonie, I’m ok,” he says.

Jooheon shakes his head. “Gun-ah, stop lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are.”

It grows quiet between them. Gunhee looks up at the sky. There are no stars tonight, only slow, wispy, wandering clouds. Gunhee can only just see them against the night sky, hazy grey against dark blue. Gunhee recalls that one time, at the beginning of the summer, when he drunkenly mused to Jooheon about the stars, and how Jooheon was so adamant on seeing them. Gunhee still hasn’t gotten the chance to show him.

“What are you thinking about?” Jooheon asks after a minute. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Remember that time I got really drunk and you had to walk me home?”

“That was only, like, two months ago. Of course I remember.”

Gunhee continues. “And remember we had to walk all the way across Hannam Bridge, and I almost threw up on you a few times. I’m still kinda sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jooheon reassures him. “You take care of me so much, it’s good to take care of you sometimes.”

“I don’t know, Jooheon,” Gunhee says, leaning against the club wall. The bass of whatever song is playing now hums through the brick and vibrates against his back. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“But I _am_ worried about you.”

Another silence falls between them, but eventually Jooheon breaks it again.

“Gun-ah, can you please,” Jooheon bites the inside of his lip, “Can you please tell me what’s wrong? If it’s me then just tell me, and I’ll—I don’t know I’ll fix it.” 

“Jooheon, it’s not you.”

“I told you to stop lying.” 

“Jooheon—”

“Gunhee, I’m not stupid. I don't know, I guess I started noticing something ever since we moved in together, things are—I don't know—they’re different. I feel like you push me away more and more. Are you unhappy with me for some reason?”

“No, Jooheonie—“

“Are you homesick? I know how much your family means to you, if you need to be with them I understand. You can move back home if that’ll make you happier.”

“Jooheon, that’s not it—”

“Then, what is it?” 

Gunhee hates seeing Jooheon like this, confused and concerned and hurt. He always thought not telling him would be better for the both of them. He thought it would be less damaging. He’s always been afraid losing what they already have, or Jooheon running off, or things not working out. For the past few months, Gunhee assumed that his facade was enough to keep everything between them the same as it always has been. But maybe he was wrong.

Gunhee takes in a deep breath, willing himself to say something, anything. No matter how hard he thinks he can’t find the right words to explain himself, to reassure Jooheon that this has nothing to do with him and everything to do with Gunhee being scared. 

Jooheon looks at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of answer. For a millisecond, Gunhee thinks that now would be a good time to press Jooheon against the wall of the club, kiss him, tell him that he’s stupid and he’s sorry and he's  _in love_ , but something keeps Gunhee frozen in place like it always has. He stares at the pavement and says nothing.

Jooheon nods as if he understands the silence.

“Okay, forget it then,” he says.

Then he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update! I was busy with school and couldn't really find the time to write. I still have essays I need to finish, but after this week I'll be done school.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading this far and feel free to comment.


	4. 04

They don't talk about it.

It feels like Gunhee hardly sees Jooheon throughout the next few days. Between work and trying to stay out of each other’s way, they only seem to cross paths when Jooheon finally comes home, past midnight, dragging his feet and sleepily locking the door behind him. 

Gunhee is sitting on the couch when Jooheon wanders into the living room. The only thing Gunhee can muster is a soft “Hey” that almost catches in his throat.

Jooheon lifts his head. “What are you doing up still?”

“Got distracted,” Gunhee says, motioning to the TV.

“Oh.” Jooheon nods, but he’s half out of it. There’s obviously something else on his mind. Gunhee wants to ask him about it, but he’s unsure the lingering tension between them would allow that. Jooheon looks at Gunhee like he wants to say something more, but all he asks is “Is there anything in the fridge?” 

Gunhee shrugs. “Probably leftovers from last night or something.”

Jooheon disappears into the kitchen. Gunhee listens to him pad across the floor tiles and open the fridge, bottles and jars rattling against each other in the shelf door. Gunhee can’t see Jooheon, but he can hear his sigh, the squeak of his fingers against a styrofoam container, the hum of the microwave as he heats his meal up, the high pitched beep when it finishes. Gunhee has the unbidden hope Jooheon will come back into the living room and sit beside him, grant him some reassurance about where they stand, but he stays where he is. 

Before Gunhee can stop himself, he walks into the kitchen. Jooheon is sitting on the counter, the container of food in his lap. This time the windows are closed, the lights are on, and the moon isn’t out. 

“How was work?”

Jooheon raises his eyebrows like he’s surprised Gunhee would ask him. “It was alright,” he says, looking back down at his food. “Kihyun hyung might drive me crazy if I’m not careful. He always wants me to change things, then change them back, then change them again.”

Gunhee laughs, his chin dropping to his chest, almost shy. “You didn’t tell me you started recording his EP.” 

Jooheon shrugs. “Wasn’t sure you wanted to know.” 

Gunhee leans against the door frame. “‘Course I want to know.” 

A familiar silence falls. Gunhee can’t tell if it’s a comfortable one or not. 

“Jooheon, can we—” Gunhee starts, but Jooheon interrupts before he can say ‘talk’. 

“Not now, Gunhee,” he says bluntly. Gunhee assumes Jooheon means for it to sting, but he looks more tired and avoidant than angry.

Any other words Gunhee thought to say get trapped in his throat when he sees how defeated Jooheon looks. He crumples the styrofoam container and throws it into the trash, turning his back to Gunhee. Gunhee stands in the kitchen doorway, chewing on his bottom lip, trying to come up with something else to say, something that will fix things. Before he can, Jooheon brushes past him and retreats to his room. The door closes behind him. 

It feels like deja vu. 

—

Gunhee doesn't expect their friends to notice anything different between him and Jooheon, but somehow they do. 

“Okay, listen to this.” Hoseok plugs his laptop into the studio speakers. A rough draft of a new track begins to play, the beat is slow, pulsing. Strings overlay the track. The melody is soft, and are Hoseok's sample vocals. Gunhee listens until the music fades out. 

“Sounds good so far, hyung,” Gunhee says. 

It’s another late night at the studio, working on beats and tracks Gunhee isn’t sure will even be good enough to use. 

Hoseok turns back to his laptop and scrolls down a list of music files. 

“You know that mixtape Jooheon made in high school?” Hoseok asks.

“Which one?” Gunhee asks. “The one that was shit or the one that was good?”

“The good one.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Ask him to send the files to me,” Hoseok says. “I want to sample one of his beats in this second track. I think it might work.”

“Can’t you ask him yourself?”

“You know how he is,” Hoseok says. “He never texts anyone back, except maybe you.” Hoseok laughs, but Gunhee doesn’t find it very funny.

“Okay, hyung, whatever.” Gunhee shifts back around in his chair.

An hour passes by before Hoseok says anything else.

“Hey, Gunhee,” Hoseok says, looking up from behind his laptop. “Can I ask you something?”

Gunhee drops his pen against the sheet of lyrics and takes another sip of coffee. His brain is fried from almost two hours of continuous writing, and two hours of continuous writer’s block. “Yeah, hyung, go ahead.”

Hoseok closes his laptop halfway and looks Gunhee in the eye. “Is there something going on between you and Jooheon?” Hoseok starts, “I mean, I haven’t even seen you two together once this past week and you seem… reluctant to talk about him. What’s up?” 

Gunhee sucks air through his teeth. Jooheon is the last thing he wants to talk about right now. It’s past 3 AM. Gunhee has to finish this draft by tomorrow or else the producer is going to be breathing down his neck. Hoseok waits for his answer. He could easily lie, say they’re both just busy with work and not actively avoiding each other, but it’s Hoseok and Gunhee is beginning to get tired of lying.

“Yeah, sorta,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He figured this would come up sooner or later, except he didn’t expect to hear it from Hoseok first. Maybe Kihyun or Minhyuk who are naturally nosey, or Changkyun who catches onto things quick, but not Hoseok. 

Hoseok frowns, his nose crinkling. “Can I ask what happened?”

“I don’t know, hyung. It’s complicated.” It’s a cliché—Gunhee feels like he’s indirectly quoting some drama. He folds in on himself in embarrassment. 

“How complicated?” 

“Just, complicated, okay?” Gunhee says. It comes out harsher than he intends. Guilt rushes into the pit of his stomach almost immediately.

It doesn’t deter Hoseok. He’s always cared for Gunhee, careful and encouraging with his words when he knows Gunhee’s upset. “Well, I know you two. You’ll work it out,” Hoseok says, trying to reassure him somehow.

But Gunhee isn’t so sure. He should let the conversation end like that, but something else spills out, pushed forward by the worry buzzing at the back of his mind. Gunhee’s voice is softer when he speaks this time. “I don't think he wants to talk to me.”

“Have you really tried?” 

Gunhee thinks about two nights ago. His stomach drops when he remembers the way Jooheon avoided him. Besides that, they’ve barely spoken more than ten words to each other. Each time Jooheon has sounded distant and apathetic. Gunhee doesn't expect anything more. They’re both acting like nothing happened since their argument, or whatever it was. Despite their best efforts, it isn’t easy to hide. Something hangs heavily in the air between them.

Gunhee picks up his pen and turns back to the messy wall of lyrics in his notebook. When he reads them over again, every lyric, every rhyme, every punchline seems to translate to Jooheon, Jooheon, Jooheon. He scratches a few lines out, then a whole verse, then eventually scraps the whole thing. He’ll rewrite it later when his head doesn’t feel so cloudy. 

Hoseok leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and Gunhee is forced to look at him again. “Gun-ah, Jooheon’s been your best friend since high school, you can’t avoid each other forever.” 

He’s probably right. 

“Don’t worry about me, hyung.”

Hoseok sighs. “Stop saying that. You have to let people worry about you sometimes.”

—

Changkyun asks him the same thing two nights later, down by the river again. He finds Gunhee there taking free throws and sits on the paved court, just watching. Once he realizes basketball won’t solve his problems, Gunhee collapses into the spot beside him, dropping the ball into his lap. He brushes his sweat dampened bangs off his forehead and leans back on his hands, tipping his head forward to feel the warm night breeze ghost the nape of his neck. Changkyun does the same, staring up at the spotless sky. The hum of cars passing by breaks the otherwise quiet night. Eventually Changkyun breaks the silence as well. 

“Have you talked to him?” he asks. His voice is flat like he already knows the answer.

Gunhee shakes his head, pressing his lips together in a frown. “Not yet.”

“Don’t you think you should?” 

“Yeah, I know, I know.” Gunhee releases an exasperated sigh and lays flat out on the court like Jooheon had a couple weeks before, blinking at the sky, fingers only an inch away from brushing Gunhee’s hip. Gunhee almost regrets not saying anything then. “Has he said anything to you at all?” 

Changkyun picks the ball up from Gunhee’s lap and squeezes it in his palms. He stares down at the polka dotted indents in the orange rubber. “He hasn’t told me anything if that’s what you’re asking.”

Changkyun stands up, walks to the free throw line, and takes a shot.

“Gunhee hyung,” Changkyun starts, chewing on his words. The glow of the court lights outlines his shadow. He halfheartedly bounces the ball, simultaneously weighing what to say next. Up and down, up and down. A steady rhythm. 

Gunhee squints up at him.“Yeah, Changkyun?”

Changkyun catches the ball mid-bounce with a _clap_. 

“You should tell him,” he says. “Jooheon should know. He deserves that much. Doesn’t he?” 

Panic, white and hot, stirs the pit of Gunhee stomach. Something unspoken between Changkyun’s words, frustrated and intentional, says he knows exactly what Gunhee’s hiding. 

“Tell him what?” he asks. His immediate reaction is to act oblivious. It comes out too flustered to be believable. 

Changkyun’s unaffected expression shuts his attempt at denial right down. Gunhee wonders how long he’s known, if everyone else knows, if they knew how he felt about Jooheon before Gunhee even knew himself.

“You love him,” Changkyun says. It’s more of a statement than an answer to Gunhee’s question. 

“Yeah,” Gunhee says, giving in. “I love him.” It sounds different out in the air than it does in his head. More intimidating maybe, but just as full, even more real. Gunhee wants to say it again to experiment how it feels. “Do you think he knows?” he asks instead.

As expected, Changkyun shakes his head.

“Does anyone else?”

“I don’t think so,” Changkyun says. “Just me.”

Gunhee’s heart is still thumping hard, but the initial panic settles. It’s only Changkyun. It doesn’t make a difference whether he knows or not. Gunhee begins to wonder what difference it’d make if everyone else knew as well. He feels like he’s finally opened the door to the possibility. 

Changkyun grins at him, his expression teasing. Gunhee feels like he’s back in elementary school, and Changkyun just pressured him into admitting his secret crush. The comparison isn’t very far off. 

“Okay, genius,” Gunhee says, laughing. Any remaining anxiety dissipates. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Do you not realize the way you look at him?” Changkyun starts.

“No, not really.”

“You look at him like he’s the stars.”

Gunhee smiles. “You’re a smart ass.” 

— 

Gunhee visits his mother after work the next day. She makes him soup, a protective comfort from the gloomy weather outside, and they sit at the table, eating quietly, periodically talking about this and that. She asks Gunhee if he’s talked to his sister recently, how his work is going, if he finished the demos he told her about and whether he received feedback from the company’s producer yet. Gunhee answers in as little words possible, other things on his mind.

“How is Jooheon doing?” she asks eventually.

“Um, he’s good,” Gunhee says, wondering if she can hear the apprehension in his voice. "Busy, though," he adds. “I’ve barely seen him all week.”

Gunhee’s mother rests her spoon in her bowl. “Is that why you’re moody today?” 

“I’ve been moody?” Gunhee asks.

“Just a little.” She leans over the table and softly pats Gunhee’s cheek. “You keep frowning. You’re much quieter than usual.” 

“Oh.” Gunhee looks down into his bowl of soup. “We, um, had an argument.”

Gunhee worries she’ll ask him what it was about, but she doesn’t.

“Is that what you’re upset about?” she says. 

Gunhee nods. “He won’t talk to me.”

“I remember the first time you brought Jooheon over. You were fourteen or fifteen. It wasn’t long after we moved here,” his mother begins. Gunhee looks up, wondering where she’s going with this. “I thought he might be trouble, but he turned out to be a very sweet, very caring boy. And he had the deepest dimples I’d ever seen.” She laughs. Gunhee can’t help the smile that splits his lips. “You and Jooheon, you’re similar but different, like two sides of the same moon. You’ve been friends for a very long time.”

“Yeah, a long time,” Gunhee agrees, absentmindedly stirring his soup. “Maybe he’s getting sick of me.”

It’s a misplaced joke, but Gunhee fears there might be some truth to it. His mother frowns. Her hand rests on top of Gunhee’s on the table.

“You’ve always been afraid of people leaving,” his mother says sadly. “I know you don’t like to show it, but ever since your father left…” She trails off. She doesn’t need to finish her sentence for Gunhee to understand. 

“But Gunhee,” his mother adds, “I don’t think you have to worry about Jooheon.”

While his mother pack up the leftovers, Gunhee finds himself back in his old bedroom, laying on his too small mattress and staring at the ceiling fan. He looks over at the photographs on his shelf. School photos, baby pictures, one or two of his mother and father. The photograph of himself as a child in the field of flowers catches his eye.

_That’s the place I told you about._

_Y’know, I wasn’t joking about taking you there._

_You really want to go?_

_Yeah, let’s go._

It's still light outside when Gunhee leaves. His mother walks him to the door.

“Take care of yourself,” his mother says, handing him a bag of leftovers to take home. She squeezes his shoulder. “Tell Jooheon I say hello."

"I will," Gunhee says, trying to sound sure of himself. 

“It’s supposed to rain sometime tonight, so hurry home.”

"Thanks mom." He kisses her on the cheek. "I'll come over again soon."

Up ahead, the clouds are dusky and heavy with rain. While Gunhee waits for the subway he hopes that it’ll hold off. His hopes are ignored—rain is falling by the time he gets off the train and exits the station. Impatient, Gunhee decides to brave through the rain instead of waiting for it to stop. He pulls his hood over his head and starts walking. 

Soon it begins pouring. As expected of monsoon season. The rain soaks through Gunhee’s clothes, raindrops rolling off the ends of his hair. The rain dyes the pavement dark grey and drips off the leaves of trees. People with colourful umbrellas rush down the streets and store owners close their windows and doors. Windshield wipers dash the raindrops away from taxi windows. The air smells earthy and feels cool and electric like it might storm. The sky is thundering lowly by the time Gunhee reaches their apartment. 

Gunhee fiddles with his keys, cold and slippery in his hands. He hears someone coming up the stairs and walking down the hall. Their shoes squeak against the floor. 

“Did you fall into a puddle or something?” 

Gunhee looks up to see Jooheon. His hair is soaked through and his damp t-shirt clings to his collarbone, plastered against his raindrop freckled skin. 

“I could ask the same thing to you,” Gunhee says, finally getting the door open and flicking the lights on. Nothing happens. Gunhee tries again. Nothing.

“Power must be out,” Jooheon guesses.

It’s raining even harder now. Gunhee slips off his wet shoes and pads into the kitchen to shut the windows. Gunhee sees a flash of lightning in the distance. The rain beats hard against the glass like pebbles. Jooheon disappears into the bathroom and comes back out with two towels. He tosses one to Gunhee and dries his hair with the other, leaning against the stove. 

“Gunhee, I, um, sent those files Hoseok hyung asked for.”

“Oh,” Gunhee says. “Thanks for that.”

Standing here, dripping wet, staring at each other hesitantly like something might happen if they catch one another’s eyes, Gunhee feels like an idiot. Any lingering anger, frustration, and anxiety aimed at Jooheon feels arbitrary now.

“Jooheon—”

“Gunhee, I’m sorry,” Jooheon says in a voice that sounds too quiet and gentle to be his.

Gunhee narrows his eyes at him. “What do you have to apologize for?” 

“For ignoring you, avoiding you, pushing you away, generally being a dickhead.”

“You don’t—Jesus Christ—you _don’t_ have to apologize for that,” Gunhee says. “You were pissed at me. I get it.”

“Doesn’t make me any less sorry.” 

“I’m the one who should be sorry—”

“Stop being difficult, Gun-ah. Just accept my apology.”

“Only if you accept mine. Okay?”

There's a hint of a smile on Jooheon's lips. It makes Gunhee's stomach flutter. “Yeah, okay.”

It doesn’t solve everything, but it’s a start. At least they're speaking again.

It begins to grow dark as the storm moves closer and the sun sets. The power still hasn’t turned itself back on. Gunhee stares out the window, imagining how clear the sky would be if the whole city went dark.

“Jooheon.”

“Yeah, Gunhee?”

“Do you still want to see the stars?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the last. Again, thank you so much for reading and leave a comment to let me know what you think!
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on twitter if you want. I'm @inkquells. We can scream about Jooheon/Gunhee together, talk about writing, or anything else.


	5. 05

“Do you still want to see the stars?”

It hangs in the air for a moment, unanswered, but then Jooheon smiles, looking up at Gunhee through his still damp bangs. “How are we getting there?”

“I’ll take you.”

“You promise this time?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Throughout the next week, Gunhee notices how considerably lighter he feels now that Jooheon isn’t ignoring him anymore. He feels like they're regaining normalcy again. He feels it when he sees Jooheon in the kitchen every morning, hair mussed up from sleep, chewing on a piece of toast, smiling and mumbling a quick ‘good morning’ before Gunhee leaves for work. And when Jooheon gets bored during one of his meetings and won’t stop texting Gunhee pictures he knows will make him laugh. And when Jooheon brings takeout back to the apartment after a long day and they sit on the couch, watching reruns and picking at each other’s food. Things between them feel more normal now than they have in months, but Jooheon hasn’t forgotten their initial argument. Gunhee hasn’t either. But in a way they both try to make up for it. Gunhee keeps Jooheon company in the studio on nights when he has to stay late, while Jooheon helps Gunhee write lyrics, and plays basketball with him again down at the courts by the river.

“You weren’t joking about taking me were you?” Jooheon says one night as they’re walking home, keeping in step next to each other. He doesn’t specify what he’s talking about, but Gunhee knows by the way his eyes are pointed at the sky.

“Of course not,” Gunhee says. They haven’t had a chance to discuss it again, but Gunhee would never forget. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Gunhee keeps his promise. They wait for a clear night. It rains on and off the next few days, but good weather eventually arrives with the weekend. The sun beams down hot over Seoul once again, light gleaming off the glass windows of skyscrapers and soaking into the grey pavement below. Up ahead, the sky is cloudless, dyed baby blue like an uncracked robin’s egg. Gunhee hopes it stays that way tonight, clear enough to see every possible spot and speck.

After some convincing, Hoseok lets them borrow his car—a grey minivan with missing hubcaps and paint that’s chipping near the bumper, but it’s as clean and polished as it can be. Gunhee wonders if Hoseok ever drives it. It’s not a necessary commodity when there are subways, trains, and buses. 

"Be careful,” Hoseok says when he hands over the keys, his voice warning like he’s imaging all the different ways Gunhee might break it. “It’s my mom’s old car.”

Gunhee holds his hands up in surrender. "Alright," he says, walking over to the driver’s side. He opens the door and leans against the frame of the car, smirking. “Nothing's going to happen to it, hyung. Not even a scratch.”

Hoseok suspiciously eyes Jooheon, who’s already siting in the passenger’s seat. “Okay, but don’t let him put his feet up on the dashboard.”

Jooheon rolls the window down a crack and looks up at him, sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose. "I can hear you, hyung.”

Ignoring both of them, Gunhee pulls up the directions his mother gave him on his phone. It's only an hour-and-a-half drive, through the highway and a down few country roads, but it’ll be growing dark by the time they get there if Gunhee timed it right.

“Okay, have fun,” Hoseok says. He flashes Gunhee a knowing look. Gunhee wouldn’t be surprised if he knows, like Changkyun. The only person Gunhee is actively hiding anything from now is Jooheon himself.

Gunhee starts the car, feeling the engine’s hum underneath his seat, and puts it in drive. Gravel cracks underneath the tires as the car pulls out of the driveway. Jooheon waves goodbye to Hoseok as they drive down the street, then slouches back in his seat when he’s out of sight.

They sit quietly for the first few minutes, enjoying the collective silence after their busy work days. As they reach the outskirts of Seoul’s inner city, they hit their first bout of traffic. The car slows to a halt, and so do the other cars around them. Gunhee rolls down the window to feel the breeze against his face, contrast to the hot sun blaring through the windshield. A week of rain wicked away most of the humidity, leaving cooler air in its wake. _Summer’s almost gone_ , Gunhee thinks for the first time this year. After months of stifling heat, it’s a strange thought. Gunhee can already imagine the burnt yellows, oranges, and reds that will paint the autumn leaves.

Someone honks behind the car, a loud horn blaring somewhere to Gunhee’s left, so he rolls up the window again.

Jooheon looks over at Gunhee from behind the opaque haze of his sunglasses. “It’s kind of weird how we both ended up here,” he says.

Gunhee’s eyebrows crease. “Huh?”

“I mean, I wasn’t born here either,” Jooheon explains, motioning to the city outside of Gunhee’s window. “Remember when you were talking about the mountains and stuff? Sometimes I think about what might have happened if I never moved to Seoul, and you never moved to Seoul, and we never met.”

_Does Jooheon think about this a lot?_ Gunhee wonders. _What for?_

“Yeah? What do you think it’d be like?”

“Shitty probably,” Jooheon says, a playful smile on his lips. “You couldn’t survive a day without me.”

Gunhee doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does. “I think I should be saying that about you.”

When it’s been five minutes and they’ve only moved forward two inches, Jooheon busies himself by snooping through Hoseok’s car. Gunhee watches him, amused. He doesn’t find much but tissues, old store receipts, and a condom that Jooheon giggles at and throws into the backseat. Jooheon sits up to rummage through the car glove compartment. He pulls out a handful of tapes. 

“I can’t believe this thing still has a cassette player,” he says, turning one over in his hands, reading the track list written on the back in curly font. The front cover shows a man in a dapper, glittering white suit, smiling too wide to be comfortable and a microphone gripped nonchalantly in his hand. 

Gunhee glances over before looking back at the road. ”Anything good?"

Jooheon shuffles through the other tapes he dropped in his lap. "Only trot," he says. "Who knew Hoseok was such a big fan?”

Gunhee laughs, then reaches over to the dial on the stereo. “Radio?” he asks.

“Radio,” Jooheon agrees. He shoves the tapes back inside the glove box and closes it with a _click._

Traffic finally lets up and they start moving again. Gunhee closes the windows again once they cross over onto the highway. He lets Jooheon DJ for most of the way, only taking over once when ten minutes have passed and Jooheon still can’t decide on a station, flipping back and forth until Gunhee has to shove his hand away from the dial and choose something himself. Jooheon’s fingers curl briefly around Gunhee’s before dropping back against his arm rest.

“Oh, I like this song,” Jooheon says before Gunhee can stop to think about the brush of their hands. Jooheon hums along to the melody and leans back in his seat. “Do you like this song?”

Gunhee turns the volume up a few notches. “Yeah, sure.”

Jooheon takes that as a go-ahead to start singing, head tipped back towards the roof of the car, eyes closed and sunglasses slipping off as he soulfully belts out lyrics Gunhee doesn’t remember. It’s loud and deliberately off-pitch, but still music to Gunhee’s ears. It doesn’t take long before Gunhee joins in, half-mumbling the lyrics and laughing every time Jooheon tries to hit a high note. Near the end of the song, Jooheon stops. Gunhee doesn’t notice at first and continues to sing the last few bars by himself, fingers tapping the rhythm against the steering wheel. The song fades out and he realizes he’s singing alone.

Gunhee pauses. “What?” he asks.

Jooheon blinks at him, his sunglasses now placed on the top of his head. Maybe Gunhee is imagining it, but he looks a little flustered. “Nothing.”

Halfway through their trip, they park at a rest stop to eat something. They sit outside at one of the many picnic tables after buying their meals—naengmyeon to cancel out the warm weather. Jooheon must be starving because he shoves an overwhelming amount of noodles into his mouth as soon as they sit down. Gunhee takes his phone out of his pocket to take a picture. Jooheon doesn’t question it and automatically holds up a peace sign, still slurping his noodles. Gunhee quickly snaps the photo before scrolling down to look at it. He smiles.

“Did I have food on my face?” Jooheon asks, chewing.

“Yup.”

“You’re a dick.” 

Jooheon reaches across the table and snatches the phone from Gunhee’s hand. Gunhee thinks he’s going to delete the picture, but he points the camera at Gunhee instead.

“Say hi,” Jooheon says, his finger scrolling upwards on the screen, probably zooming in on Gunhee’s face at an unflattering angle.

“Is this a video?” 

“Mhmm.”

Gunhee makes a point of stuffing his face full of food and smiling with full cheeks. He gives Jooheon a thumbs up.

“Very handsome.”

Jooheon taps something on the screen then slides the phone across the table back to Gunhee.

“You didn’t post that, did you?” Gunhee asks in mild horror.

Jooheon shakes his head. “I sent it to myself.”

“What for?”

“I dunno. Memories?”

Gunhee turns back to his noodles, trying not to blush.

The sun is much lower in the sky by the time they finish and get back to the car.

“Want me to drive?” Jooheon offers before Gunhee can get in the driver’s seat. He holds out his hand for the car keys.

Gunhee snorts. “You don’t know where you’re going,” he says.

“So what? You have the directions.”

“So?”

“You can tell me where to go,” Jooheon says. He makes a motion with his hand. “You look kind of tired. I don’t want you to fall asleep behind the wheel.”

Gunhee isn’t tired. Maybe Jooheon is making excuses, but he gives in anyways. “Alright.” Gunhee tosses him the keys and they change seats. “But if you crash Hoseok’s car I’m not covering for you,” he jokes. 

Admittedly, it’s nice not having to drive the rest of the way. Gunhee rests his head against the cool glass of the passenger seat window and watches the road ahead appear and disappear. The white dashed lines painted onto the road look continuous at this speed, infinitely stretching out in front of them. Gunhee listens to Jooheon hum along to whatever song is on the radio. They talk about this and that, music, work, family, friends. But they don’t talk about where they’re going. It’s an accepted fate. Something definite. Signs pass by, trucks and buses, farmland that stretches for miles. The landscape becomes more hilly as they get closer, and then Gunhee can finally see familiar mountains peaking out of the horizon, tall and still like giants.

“Take this exit here,” Gunhee says.

Jooheon does as he’s told. He turns left and they leave the highway, zigzagging down a curved road, then up and over another group of hills. It’s enough to make someone dizzy. Gunhee looks at the directions saved on his phone to make sure they’re going the right way. 

As they pass by more familiar roads. Something pulls at Gunhee’s heart. Nostalgia, maybe. Warm and tugging memories of motels and mountains, moving snapshots of the photographs on Gunhee’s bookshelf back home. His sister, his mother, his four-year-old self strapped into a carseat watching these same roads pass ahead of him, and now Jooheon. Gunhee looks over at him. He furtively watches the sun shine against his cheeks, peak-a-booing in and out between the tree peaks and onto his face. The light is golden, burnt by oncoming nightfall. Jooheon smiles a little when he catches Gunhee’s eyes.

Gunhee loves him.

“Turn here,” Gunhee says after a minute. “It’s just down this road I think.”

He’s going to see the stars again.

The dirt road is bumpy and winding, towering evergreens lining the edges, leaves reaching past fences and guard rails. Jooheon follows the roadsigns. He turns right at an old, rusting one, worn and fading letters spelling out the name of the park. Before Gunhee realizes, the car is slowing down in front of an opening in the trees.

“Is this it?” Jooheon asks.

“Yeah, this is it.”

The car stops.

Gunhee steps outs onto grass, soft underneath his shoes. He grabs a backpack from the backseat, tugging it onto his shoulders, and meets Jooheon again at the front of the car.

“It’s this way,” Gunhee says, pointing at the path leading through the grounds. He’s almost surprised he remembers where to go. It’s been a long time. “Come on.” 

Jooheon follows Gunhee closely on the path, only a step behind to let him lead the way. The path winds and curls, up and down, side to side. A twig somewhere in the forest snaps softly and Jooheon grabs Gunhee’s wrist.

“What was that?”

“It was probably a deer,” Gunhee says.

Jooheon’s fingers brush Gunhee’s pulse point. For a second, Gunhee thinks he might hold his hand. “There are deer here?”

“We might see one if we’re quiet enough.”

Jooheon drops his hand back to his side and they continue walking. Gunhee pauses again after a minute. 

“Do you hear the river?”

Jooheon stops to listen. A quiet trickling breaks through the quiet. “Oh, yeah. I hear it.”

“It’s just past there.” Gunhee points through the trees. “I used to fish down there as a kid. My uncle taught me how.”

“I don’t think I ever learned.”

“I’ll teach you someday,” Gunhee says.

They start walking again. 

Eventually, they reach the clearing. The first thing Gunhee sees is sky, the beginnings of the sunset milky orange like a creamsicle. The few clouds drifting by are cotton candy, dusty pink and wooly. Light breaks through them and shimmers, the sun low on the horizon. _It’ll be dark soon_ , Gunhee thinks. He can tell that—like his own family—no one visits this place very often anymore. The grass is long and wild, spilling over the paths. Flowers grow tall and untouched. There’s no trace of wood or ash left in the fire pit at the camp grounds, and tire and bike tracks have long since been covered by the wind in dirt and dust. A lonely haze settles over the hills, the forest, and the far off mountains. Or maybe not lonely, just alone. Gunhee knows life in a loud, crowded city makes it easy to mistake the two. 

“Tell me more about this place,” Jooheon says, walking at Gunhee’s side.

Gunhee thinks back through his memories of this place—campfires, swimming, hiking, climbing, exploring the forest. He wishes they had enough time here to go through every one, walk every inch of the fields and hills that Gunhee remembers. Maybe one day. 

“I fell out of that tree once,” Gunhee says as they leave the path, pointing to the tree straight ahead of them.

Jooheon looks up at its reaching branches. They stand out dark against the bright, colourful sky. “How did you get up there?”

“No idea,” Gunhee says. “But I cut myself on the tree root on the way down.” He twists his arm to show Jooheon a raised, white scare on the back of his elbow. 

“Ouch,” Jooheon says, then holds up his finger for Gunhee to see the still slightly pink and fresh scar where he cut himself washing dishes. “We match.”

“That’s barely a scratch,” Gunhee teases.

Jooheon shoves Gunhee playfully in the shoulder. “Hey, you were there. You saw all the blood.”

“Yeah, all two drops of it.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on,” Gunhee says. He almost reaches for Jooheon’s hand to lead him in the right direction. “Um, the best spot is just up here.”

Jooheon takes one look at Gunhee and breaks off into a sprint up the hill. Gunhee quickly ditches his backpack and follows him. He reaches the top in time to see Jooheon lie in the grass, his chest rising and falling as he lets himself fall flat onto the ground.

“Wow, it’s even prettier up here,” he says. Blades of grass poke out from underneath him. 

“There’s a blanket in the bag if you want to lie on it,” Gunhee mentions, a little out of breath from their spontaneous race, “but I kinda ditched it at the bottom of the hill.”

 “Doesn’t matter,” Jooheon says, looking up at him. “The grass is soft enough.”

Here, the view of the sunset is better. The horizon is still light, but the far reaches of the sky are turning dark, navy blue. Gunhee can see a spattering of stars already, some bright and some faint. The almost-full moon is fuzzy like cotton in the distance, waiting for the night to reach it. Gunhee sits beside Jooheon. The grass tickles the bare skin of his arms as he leans back.

“How much longer until the sun goes down?” Jooheon asks. 

“Not long.”

After a while, Jooheon goes so quiet that Gunhee thinks he’s fallen asleep, but when he glances over at him his eyes are open, just watching the sky. Amidst the silence, Gunhee listens to the syncopated rhythm of the wind blowing between tree branches, the breeze soft like a whisper. Soon enough the sun dips behind the tree line to sleep with the mountains and the moon greets them, clear and bright.

Then the stars come out. 

Jooheon props himself up on his hands to get a better look. It’s overwhelming. Gunhee became used to seeing one or two stars each night, maybe three or four, but now there are hundreds laid out above him. The sky looks like an upside-down ocean, a sea where specks of light swim.

“How long do you think it would take to count them all?” Jooheon wonders.

“A really long time?" 

Gunhee doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Long enough that the sky begins to feel like an optical illusion, like space is all around them and not only above. Heaven touching earth. Gunhee points out the constellations he remembers from school—five of them at most—and Jooheon tries to name each one. They watch for shooting stars, satellites, airplanes. Gunhee’s neck feels sore from craning it backwards for so long. Jooheon must feel the same because he tips his head forward to rubs at the back of his neck.

“Come here,” Gunhee says, noticing. He tugs at Jooheon’s shoulders until he’s falling, sprawled out, into the grass. Gunhee cushions Jooheon’s head in his lap, leaning back on his hands so Jooheon can gaze straight up above him. “Better?”

Jooheon smiles up at him, bright even in the dark. “I understand why you missed this,” he says after a minute, awestruck as he looks towards the horizon. “Y’know what my mom used to tell me?”

“No,” Gunhee says. “What?”

“She’d say ‘stars are fireflies that fly too close to the moon’,” Jooheon says. “They love its light or something. Once they fly up there, they don't want to come back down.”

“But why aren't the stars green then?”

Gunhee feels Jooheon’s laughter rumble against his thigh.

“It’s just a story, Gun-ah,” Jooheon says, but then adds, “Maybe they want to be more like the moon because they love it so much, so their light turns white.”

Gunhee smiles. “Maybe.”

Whenever Gunhee looks up at the stars, he feels so small, strangely insignificant, but there’s something else there too. Something hopeful. Gunhee used to think the stars indicated his place in the universe, how none of this really matters much when the stars are up there and he’s down here. But being with here with Jooheon, Gunhee doesn’t feel the same way he used to. Doesn’t this lack of meaning make everything matter more? Shouldn’t he try to do what makes him happy, even if he’s afraid it might not work out like he wants it to? Gunhee always believed if he made a mistake in the pursuit of happiness, it’d be written in the stars, but he realizes now that the stars aren’t listening. So why should he be afraid? Why should he be afraid of opening up to Jooheon? Afraid of change? Of love? Things _will_ change and people _will_ love. The stars aren’t afraid of it, maybe Gunhee shouldn’t be either.

“Jooheon?” Gunhee begins. He realizes now that one of his hands is resting on the crown of Jooheon’s head, fingers nestled in his hair. Gunhee doesn’t pull away until Jooheon is sitting up, turning to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming with me, here,” Gunhee says. 

“Thanks for showing me the stars.” Jooheon looks up at the sky once again, eyes bright and crinkling with his smile. “They’re really beautiful.”

Gunhee sits forward on his knees. He reaches out to cup Jooheon’s cheek, gently turning his head and pulling his eyes away from the stars to look at him. His expression is soft, but a little surprised, searching Gunhee’s face. Before Gunhee can second guess himself, Jooheon leans in.

There’s a brief, terrifying, too quiet pause.

Then Gunhee closes the rest of the space between them.

Gunhee’s nose brushes Jooheon’s as he softly slots their lips together. Jooheon curls his fingers around the hand draped at Gunhee’s side, while his other hand rests overtop of the one cupping his cheek. Jooheon’s skin is hot like he’s blushing all over, and his breath is warm, tickling Gunhee’s skin when he breathes into the kiss. When Gunhee pulls away for air, he can barely process what’s happened.

“Is this… this is okay?” Gunhee asks, astonished and out of breath.

“It’s okay, Gunhee.”

Jooheon crashes their lips together again, needy and hot. His tongue swipes over Gunhee’s bottom lip, so Gunhee gently nips at his mouth. Somehow they end up sprawled out in the grass, Gunhee hovering over Jooheon on his elbows, Jooheon’s chest flush against him. The kiss finally breaks. Jooheon breathes out against Gunhee’s shoulder. It sounds like something between laughter and a sigh, almost a giggle. He lifts his head from the crook of Gunhee’s neck after a moment, flustered like he’s just realized something.

“Wait, is that—is this what that was all about? Is this why you’ve been so—”

Gunhee nods. He doesn’t know what else to say. He feels shellshocked. His heart is pounding and fluttering inside his ribcage all at once, warmth swelling all over his body. His head is buzzing. Did he really just kiss Jooheon? Did Jooheon really just kiss him back?

“Um, yeah. Sort of?” It’s the most intelligible answer Gunhee can manage.

Jooheon’s expression falls. “Shit, Gunhee, I’m such an idiot, I didn’t realize—” He rests his forehead against Gunhee’s, almost apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot, Gun-ah. I—”

“I’m the idiot, Jooheon. I’m the one who didn’t tell you.”

“Why didn’t—” Jooheon swallows, suddenly shy. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you felt—”

“Way too fucking long,” Gunhee says before he can finish.

Jooheon kisses him again, tugging him down. Their third kiss is just as sweet, and so is their fifth, tenth, fifteenth. Gunhee quickly loses track. There are too many to count, and the stars shining above them are soon forgotten.

—

None of their friends seem especially surprised when they tell them. Changkyun is quick to brag that he knew all along while Minhyuk and Kihyun tease them, and Hyunwoo congratulates them awkwardly. While everyone is either saying "I knew it!" or, alternatively, "weren’t you already dating?" Hoseok grows unusually quiet. Gunhee is afraid he disapproves, until he breaks his silence and says “Wait—you didn’t fuck in my car, did you?”

Jooheon chokes on his drink laughing.

Everyday they try to make up for lost time.

Jooheon is usually busy with work and Gunhee with composing, but they come home to each other each night. Gunhee is lying on his bed, working on a beat on his laptop, when he hears the apartment door creak open. He listens to Jooheon shuffle inside and drop a bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter. He kicks off his shoes by the closet, then walks down the hall.

“Hey,” Jooheon says when he reaches the doorway of Gunhee’s bedroom. He leans against the frame with his arms crossed. He looks tired out from his long day, but he’s smiling at Gunhee anyways.

“Hi,” Gunhee says, returning his smile. 

Jooheon sits beside him on the bed, the same spot where he slept last night. The sheets are still rumpled and the pillow is creased. They’ve been sleeping less often in separate rooms, instead falling asleep together in whatever bed seems most comfortable that night.

Jooheon kisses Gunhee on the cheek. His stomach unexpectedly flutters, like it always has at the smallest things Jooheon does. Being with Jooheon in this way is still unfamiliar to Gunhee. It’s different. It’s a change, but it's also like they should have been doing this years ago. Sometimes Gunhee thinks Jooheon will change his mind about everything, but he never does.

“I bought you something,” Jooheon says, resting his head against Gunhee’s shoulder.

Gunhee’s eyebrows crease together. “Why? What for?”

“I don’t know. One month anniversary?”

“Wait, that’s today?” Gunhee questions, unbidden worry rising in his voice. Has it really been a month? Are you supposed to celebrate a one month anniversary? 

“I have no idea. It might be,” Jooheon says, smirking. Gunhee sighs out of relief. “Doesn’t matter. I got you something anyway.”

“What is it?” 

Jooheon gets to his feet, heading back out into the kitchen. “Don’t expect diamonds or anything like that,” he says down the hall. He comes back with a plastic bag, the logo of a variety store printed on the front. “Close your eyes.”

Gunhee shuts his laptop, tossing it to the edge of his mattress before lying down and draping an arm across his eyes. “Should I be concerned?”

Jooheon chuckles, fiddling with the packaging of something plastic. “I don’t think so,” he says, then Gunhee feels the mattress sink with weight. From behind his closed eyes, he can only guess that Jooheon either put something very heavy down beside him, or he’s standing on the bed.

“What are you doing?” Gunhee asks.

“No peaking.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

Gunhee hears the rustle and ripping of plastic packaging again until Jooheon steps back onto the floor. His socked feet slide against the hardwood.

“Can I look now?”

“Not yet.”

Jooheon pads across the room and shuts the lights off, everything growing even darker in front of Gunhee’s already closed eyes. The mattress shifts as Jooheon seemingly lies down beside him. “Okay, you can open your eyes, Gun-ah.”

It takes Gunhee’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, phosphenes swirling in front of him. He looks over at Jooheon, their noses almost bumping as Gunhee turns his head.“What am I supposed to be looking at, Jooheonie?”

Jooheon laughs. “Gunhee, look _up_ ,” he says.

So Gunhee looks up.

On the ceiling of his bedroom are stars. Well, stickers shaped like stars, but they glow in the dark just the same, an off yellow almost green colour. They dot the ceiling in clusters, some big and some small, some glowing brighter than others, some stars fainter like they’re farther away. _Floating fireflies_ , Gunhee remembers. And then there’s the moon, a waning crescent, in the middle of it all. He knows stars don’t revolve around moons, but it looks like they’ve moved just for this one.

Jooheon shifts beside him. “I know it’s probably stupid, but—” 

“It isn’t stupid, Jooheonie,” Gunhee says, cutting him off before he can say anything more. He absentmindedly brushes Jooheon’s hair off his forehead. “I like it. Thank you.”

Jooheon catches Gunhee’s hand and links their fingers. His hands are warm, smaller than Gunhee’s, but reassuring. “Maybe these stars will help when you start to miss the real thing.”

It’s quiet for a while after that. Gunhee looks up at the stars on his ceiling, then back at Jooheon. Maybe it’s still too soon, but Gunhee can’t bring himself to care. He’s tired of waiting. He has been for a while. He’s wanted to say it for so long. Now that Gunhee knows Jooheon isn’t going anywhere, the words don’t feel half as daunting as they used to. They fall easily from Gunhee’s tongue.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Gunhee says, but immediately realizes he’s not being honest enough. “Wait, no, _I am_ in love with you,” he says, then changes his mind one more time. “Fuck, no, I just—I love you, Jooheon, okay?”

Even in the dark, Gunhee can tell Jooheon isn’t surprised by his stuttering confession. By the way he’s looking at him, eyes knowing and fond, it seems like Jooheon has known for some time. Gunhee should have expected nothing less.

“Do you love me more than the stars?” Jooheon teases, glancing back up at the glowing stickers stuck to Gunhee’s ceiling.

Gunhee laughs, burying his head into Jooheon’s t-shirt. “Yeah, more than the stars.”

“Me too.” Jooheon leans in and kisses Gunhee tenderly, gentle and soft. “I love you too, Gunhee,” he says when he pulls away. He’s smiling wide, dimples cratering his cheeks. “More than the moon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! 
> 
> I just want to say thank you if you've read this far! This is the first chaptered story I've ever written, so it was a bit of an experiment for me. I'm very happy I was able to finish this, so I hope you've enjoyed reading it as well. 
> 
> As of posting this, Gunhee is officially debuting today. I'm so happy for him. He really deserves it, so I hope you'll support him and his song. I think today was a good day to post this last chapter. Once again, thank you for reading and follow me on twitter @ inkquells if you want! See you soon


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